Beyond the Animal Farm
– Ashling’s songs


The Avian Saga 2002 & 2008, Malcolm E. King.

Where Africa lies, we flew the skies,
For ten thousand thousand years.
And though infant man beneath us ran,
No capture did we fear.
For man, like ape, had yet to kill,
Or fall on flesh as feed,
So he took delight in our forest flight,
And the forest met his need.

We still recall first human fall,
– from out the sheltering tree.
And yet born mild was human child,
And sang in melody:
“All of life is born to live,
And we are all born free,
Could I forsake and captive take,
The ones who sing to me?”

Eons went by, till we heard the cry,
Of a bird in a bamboo cage,
The forest was cut for a prison hut;
And a child with tears did gaze
Past injured wing and feathers torn,
To the human act obscene:
They’d tied her legs astride her eggs,
To make a breeding machine.

Her last cry was to Panda nigh:
“Breed not unless you’re free;
For now man’s greed will slowly breed,
Billions of captives, from me.”


And with that cage began the age,
Where another door shut tight,
Our trust with man forsaken,
By man, NOW PARASITE!

Thus came mans fall from Eden’s call,
But how do you hide your guilt?
Forge a new god willing to allow the killing,
Who for sin wants more blood spilt!
So with conscience dead, keep us in sheds
At tortured nature’s cost,
While you sink in your cities,
To bury the pity
Of your inner Eden lost.

Long-since times, when ice-bound climes
Drove hunger to your door,
Against your will you had to kill,
But that threat is here no more.
This, Plutarch knew, and Einstein too;
Isaiah saw killing cease,
Now a growing throng
Cries out, “It’s wrong!
Let earth regain her peace.”

The Deeds of Man, kind?
Malcolm E. King. May 1970 & April 2008
These thoughts weigh heavy on my mind,
Of all the deeds of man (called kind);
Of how we treat the creatures small,
Take calf from cow in darkened stall.

And did you see those spring-born lambs,
No gentler creature in all the land,
Now hung on hooks in Butcher Street,
Then bodies cooked for Sunday treat?

Take a browsing steer, with irons castrate,
A social being; no young, no mate,
Then dead was my soul and disease my estate,
For the cause of it all was the flesh on my plate.

From hungry lands we ship good grain,
Ten pounds are lost, one steak to gain.
We’ll never feed both man and beast,
Till men on flesh refuse to feast.

Where lies the guilt of these senseless deeds?
Who pays the farmer his animals to breed?
Who keeps the butcher at his blooded stall?
We, non-thinking, non-caring, who pay for it all.

These thoughts weigh heavy on my mind,
Of all the deeds of man (called kind).
Of how we treat those creatures small,
We, non-thinking, non-caring, who pay for it all.

After witnessing the suffering of the dairy and beef cattle and calves on
his home farm for more than twenty years, this is the song the author
wrote when he made the vow that he would never again eat flesh.


For non commercial use, these songs may be copied or sent (with all adjoining text).
Song of the Dove 2002, M.E. King,

Flying on high we often see why,
You hear nothing of the captive birds,
They’re crowded in cabins and far from their buyers
Where none of their cries can be heard.
And we wonder when their pain will end;
When will the humans see,
That if a body has wings and a heart and it sings,
Surely it’s meant to be free?

Hypocrisy’s blind: to his pets he is kind,
And he claims a great love for the free;
Yet he eats of the dead, in captivity bred,
Ten billion on death row we see.
Pythagoras showed him the way he should go,
To be free from this slaughter obscene,
“Plants are your wealth and the source of all health,”
While meat carries sickness unseen.

Should the humans be parasite, heedless of inner sight,
All to put flesh on a plate?
The torn wings never flew, which they mindlessly chew,
That’s worse than the deepest of hate.
Great mind of Da Vinci, on this would not flinch,
He long as a vegan decreed:
“Your living must stand on the fruits of the land.”
How else can all beings be free?


They can’t blame the farmer – nor even the butcher,
For the pain of the ones that they eat,
For the cycle of feeding and killing and breeding,
Begins when they pay for their meat.
This Einstein knew – and McCartney too,
And one day all humans will see,
That if a body has wings, and a heart, and it sings,
Surely it’s meant to be free.


For non commercial use, these songs may be copied or sent (with all adjoining text).

NO RAPPING THE DEAD

.M. E.W. King. July 2006 & 14 Apr 08

1. In the age in which we’re living,
There is ever more misgiving
Over what is done to those who cannot speak.
I was deaf to all their pain,
So I knew not any shame,
At eating
Three bodies
A week.
5. It can be captives in a boat,
It can be those without a vote;
Do we ever see the evil of the day?
Every piece of flesh we buy,
For as long
As we look
The other way.
(Chorus:) So give me avocados . . .
2. Then I wondered if a child
Could take a creature from the wild,
Cut off its legs, then its skin, and its head?
So we pay for hidden slaughter,
To teach our sons and daughters,
Our habit
Of eating
The dead.
6. You say it’s humans who need feeding,
But the animals we’re breeding,
Outnumber every human six to one.
Many children hardly eat,
Because their food has fed your meat.
While the blame
For this shame
You pass on!
(chorus):
3. So I’m O.K with avocados . . .
And I’ll eat tofu burgers . . .
You can even give me black bean curd.
But don’t give me no bread,
If it’s wrapping the dead -
The remains
Of the body
Of no bird.
7. But choice, you say, is your right,
That you can eat just as you like,
And it’s merely an opinion that I voice.
But your choice, - it kills many;
This opinion, not any.
And your victims –
You give them
Any choice?
4. And how quickly we lose sight,
Of how they said that it was right,
For humans, as slaves, to be bred.
For the animals it’s worse,
Kill their children,
Kill their children,
And eat their dead.
8. So there’s more to avocados,
And eating tofu burgers,
Than minimizing illness – and your girth!
No less than Einstein did resolve,
From eating flesh we must evolve,
Or mankind, he said,
May not
Survive on earth!
Copyright free with this subtext: From the musical (in construction): www beyond the animal farm .com.
ENTER THIS COMPETITION: Make a CD recording (homemade, or studio) of any of these songs.
Winning audio goes onto this website –
with credits to you. Mail entry CD plus $5, or 5, (or equivalent in your currency) + stamped self-addressed envelope to:
M. E. King, MUSEUM of MAPS, The OLD CHURCH TOWER, PWLLHELI, WALES, LL53 5DE. UNITED KINGDOM.
FARMER’S BOY

M. E. King, Smithfield, London, 1985 and April 2008
   
When I was a boy, a neighbor said to me,
When you grow up, son, what’ you going to be?
You can go to college, study agronomy,
Then build a load o’ cabins, to farm intensively.
We’ve locked up all the chickens,
And the pigs are in a cage,
Or with prices ever falling we can never make a wage.
I said, I know what is living, and I know what is damned,
And now you want my help to build a prison for the lambs?

But I have heard the creatures who are calling out in pain,
And a generation’s risen now to end this deadly reign,
So every time we sing this song to the children of the land,
There are ever growing numbers who decide to take a stand,
For we’ve told the deadly secret, so they know it’s all a lie,
And that dining off dead flesh is just a recipe to die.

If I’m going to be a farmer, then it’s food I’m going to grow,
I’m done with breeding bodies for a bloody butcher’s show,
We can nourish every human, seven billion now in sight,
When we cease to breed the animals to feed to parasites.
You can’t deny the math now, of the vegan living true,
Using less than half an acre, while your diet takes up two.
With the croplands of this planet just an acre to a head,
For every one who’s eating flesh,

It means another isn’t fed.

But can’t you hear the creatures who are calling out in pain,
And generation’s risen now to end this crying shame,
So every time we sing this song to the children of this land,
There are ever growing numbers who decide to take a stand,
For we’ve told the deadly secret, so they know it’s all a lie,
And that dining off dead flesh is just a recipe to die.

For non commercial use these songs may be copied or sent (with all adjoining text).